Gemotions

The old house creaked and groaned with the wind, a sound Leo had always found comforting. He sat in the armchair by the fire, watching his niece, Clara, draw, the flickering flames reflecting in her eyes. It was a cozy evening.

Clara looked up, her eyes alight with excitement. "He's waving at you," she said, her voice clear. Leo looked at the drawing, a slight smile touching his lips.

He shifted in his chair, feeling a quiet contentment. He remembered the feeling. It was a comfortable feeling, like being wrapped in a warm blanket.

"Is he?" Leo responded, his voice almost a whisper. The crackling of the fire filled the silence.